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Yancy waited for you. He waited, and waited. He had told you, third Sunday. What was today?
It was the third Sunday of the month of December. So close to Christmas, but so far. All he had was the hope of you coming to see him.
Laying back in his bunk, he stared up at the top of the bunk above him. He had managed to pull some photos together from magazines to create a masterpiece closely resembling your handsome, beautiful face.
It was nice to have something to remember you by.
Sighing, he pulled his blanket over his head and curled up. He missed you, to tell the truth. He might have had this large prison family, but it wasn’t the same after you left. He was lonely now.
That’s why it was a big surprise when the warden came banging on his cell bars at 2 pm that day.
“Rise and shine, boy. You’ve got a visitor.” Yancy’s eyes widened in surprise as he shook off the wave of sleep that was threatening to come over him.
“Is there somebodies here for me’s?” He asked, walking over to the cell door. The warden nodded. “Whose is it?”
“They wouldn’t say. Said it had something to do with privacy.” He shrugged. “But they had to fill out all their information on the visitor sheet when they came in, so I’ll just look at it later.”
Yancy’s eyes squinted in confusion. He only had a couple people on his visitor sheet, and none of them had ever bothered to make the trip back to see him. Heck, he wasn’t sure if anyone outside prison even remembered him at this point; it had been so long.
He followed his prison escort out into the waiting room. After being searched and them finding out they he had nothing he could harm anyone with, he was allowed in.
Looking around the room, he searched for the open seat. Families surrounded him, but none of them were his.
“Yancy?” He turned towards the person who called his name, and his face lit up.
“(Y/N)?” Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, and he rushed forwards to give you the biggest hug. Picking you up and swinging you around, you had to pull your knees into your chest to avoid knocking over any chairs. “I thought youse would neva come!” He stopped swinging you around and finally set you down. He quickly moved and pulled out your chair, ushering you to sit down. After pushing your chair in, he sat himself down, and grabbed your hands across the small table. “Why’d youse take so long?” He couldn't control the emotion in his voice.
“Yancy,” you started, leaning in close. “I couldn’t risk coming back so quickly. I had to let the escape die down for a bit. You know I didn’t want to come back.” A flash of hurt fell across his face, before you corrected yourself. “I didn’t want to be back in prison. God only knows how much I missed you.” You let a laugh surface. “I debated just walking back in here, just to see you, but I just wanted to be free.”
Yancy squeezed your hands, the warmness surrounding your cold ones.
“You couldn’t haves sent a letter or any’ting?” He pouted. “I thought yous was dead.”
“Didn’t want them to suspect anything. But here I am,” you rubbed circles on his hands, “back on the third Sunday. Figured it would be nice if I came by Christmas.” You smiled.
The two of you chatted away like you had never been apart. You talked about your new job, and where you where living, and Yancy told you all about the new inmates that had come through processing, and about his little dance party he had held after lights out. It felt like you two had been chatting for hours when the buzzer went off.
“Alright inmates, say goodbye. Time’s up.” Yancy gave you the most pitiful look, and you felt your heart melt.
“I’ll be back soon. Keep up the good behavior, okay?” You told him, pushing yourself up from your chair.
“But (Y/N), I don’t wanna be free.” His shoulders fell. “I miss youse, but this is my home.” You nodded.
“Don’t do anything stupid, at least. I want you in one piece when I come back.” You let out a light laugh. Yancy smiled at that, and pulled you in for one last hug.
“Third Sunday, alright?” He whispered into your neck.
“Third Sunday,” you whispered back, squeezing him hard.